


Trust

by orphan_account



Series: And the Gunslinger Followed [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch Era, Gen, M/M, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 08:46:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8660428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: For McReyes week: day 3 - Trust.Fitting into Blackwatch was difficult, at first.





	

McCree sat in a corner of his dark room, holding his trembling knees close to his chest. He kept his eyes fixed on the door, tightening the grip on Peacekeeper whenever he heard someone pass by in the hallway. 

He was ready, he thought with a racing heart.

In Deadlock, he knew what happened to failures. They were either left in some alleyway to bleed out or got caught and thrown back out on the streets. If anyone tried to run, the gang would find them. And they would make them pay.

Jesse gulped nervously, wiping the sweat from his brow.

He was not ready.

He did not know what to expect from Blackwatch, or Overwatch, or whatever the hell he’d gotten himself into. It didn’t take a genius to figure out he was way out of his element. He was surrounded by hardened soldiers, entirely different from the lowlives he was used to. He hadn’t been stupid enough to trust any of his fellow gang members, but he’d at least known how to keep them by his side - and his new associates wouldn't be as easily charmed.

Now, he was alone.

The agents mostly gave him looks of pity, or annoyance, or simply ignored him. The only one who seemed to have taken an interest in him was the boss -  _ the Commander _ , Reyes had corrected him. 

_ ‘I’m not your boss, McCree. We’re soldiers - I’m just the one trying to keep this command on its feet.’ _

_ ‘Yeah, whatever you say,  _ jefe _ ’. _

He couldn’t help but wondering: what did Reyes want from him? Why did he even let him join? None of the answers he knew to that question seemed to apply anymore.

He scoffed. Life in prison, or life in a different gang. What a fucking choice.

At least in Deadlock he was useful. Reyes had said that he’d been nothing but a tool for them, although McCree thought the way Overwatch treated him was a waste of his talents. Shooting unmoving targets in the range was basically an insult. Didn’t they know what he was capable of?

He spun the barrel of his six-shooter.

He hated how they were making him go through basic training. He hated the fact that he couldn’t stand it even more. The rigorous exercise regimen was a new kind of hell that left him constantly drained and exhausted, without giving his sore muscles the time to recover in-between sessions. 

He’d missed today’s drill, and the last, and the one before that. 

As the hours passed, McCree’s stomach rumbled in protest - he was too afraid of meeting the Commander at the mess hall, so he skipped lunch entirely - but he remained hunched in a corner, gun in hand, with the flimsy safety offered by darkness enveloping him, until he fell into a fitful sleep.

\---

Someone knocked on the door, loud and persistent. The gunslinger was awake and alert within seconds.

“McCree, I know you’re in there. We need to talk.” Reyes sounded somewhere between irritated and disappointed.

Jesse held his breath and prepared for the worst.

The door opened, revealing the Commander’s sturdy silhouette against the brightly lit hallway. Reyes stood still, voice tinged with surprise as his eyes got used to the darkness. “What the hell are you doing?” 

Jesse kept his gun pointed towards the commander, ready to defend himself as he’d done a million times before.

“McCree. Put that gun down,” Reyes sighed.

“No. Just leave me alone,” Jesse’s voice broke. “I ain’t afraid to use it.”

The Commander raised his hands. “I know. I’m not gonna hurt you, kid.” 

McCree scoffed. “Yeah, right. Heard that before.”

Reyes took a few measured steps forward - slow and careful, like approaching a frightened but dangerous beast. “I won’t. Whatever those animals from your old gang did, it won’t happen again. Not on my watch.”

McCree’s resolve wavered, the gun’s barrel now pointing closer and closer to the ground.

“We just need to have a word, nothing more. And I’d rather not do that with a gun in my face.” Reyes crouched in front of him and outstretched his open hand, a silent request. “Do you trust me?”

Jesse exhaled a shaky breath. After a barely perceptible nod, he let Gabriel gently but firmly take the gun away, set it down, and slide it across the floor at a safe distance.

“Good. Now, can I turn the lights on?”

“No,” Jesse replied quickly.

“Alright. One step at a time. I guess I can’t really blame you, after what you went through,” Reyes tugged at the edge of his hoodie. “You’ll have to tell us about that eventually, too.”

Jesse’s breathing hitched.

“When you’re ready. With a therapist, with me, whatever - you just have to get that shit off your chest, kid.” Reyes adjusted into a more comfortable position. “Now: I know boot camp’s hard, I know you hate it, but I’m not letting you go out in the field until you can keep up with your teammates. Skipping sessions will only make it worse.”

McCree blinked, furrowing his brow. “Wait, that’s it?”

“Yeah, Jesse, that’s it. Now let’s go get you some food, I can hear your stomach rumbling from here.” Reyes got up. “And you’re gonna need the energy.”

Jesse let the Commander help him up, still wide-eyed in disbelief, and followed him, leaving the darkness of his cage behind.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to try writing a bit of McReyes without getting sidetracked, so here's something that kinda fits into my main fic, i guess?


End file.
